Burn Run Burn

You can't spell "fucking running" without the word "fun." Actually, I guess you can't spell the word "fucking" without "fun" either. I have recently committed myself to running a half marathon in October, so the last few weeks have been spent getting into a training schedule that will allow me to complete this endeavor with some measure of success, i.e., not passing out or throwing up in the course of said race. So far, so good.

I was already running a bit this summer, so I started pretty far ahead of where the training schedule dictated. Essentially, you run or do some sort of cardio 5 days a week, culminating with a "long run" on Sunday. I've also been working in a couple days a week in the weight room for good measure. The long run for last Sunday was supposed to be 4 miles, but I've been running 4 miles pretty consistently, so... Terri (our tenant who goaded me into signing up for this race) suggested we run down to Carmichael's Steak House where Dave (her husband) works.

It's about 6.5 miles down there, but as a reward we could eat a steak, drink a beer, and hitch a ride home. We set out just before 8, right at sunset, just as the temperature was dropping from its daytime highs in the upper 80's to the much cooler upper 60's. We strapped on our iPods and turned east on Irving Park, headed southeast on Lincoln, and then south on Ashland. Right away, I could sense that this was going to be a good run. The week's training seemed to have really expanded my endurance, and the Gomez pumping in my ears coupled with the wind cooling my skin had me feeling great. We pushed through the halfway point and then strange things began to happen.

Just north of Division, we bumped into Burn Rome Burn's web designer, and then a block later happened upon my sister and her fiance. Talk about serendipity. Buoyed, we set off southeast down Milwaukee, going slightly out of our way to Halsted where we cut south, and finally finished with a two block sprint back west on Madison.

As we walked up to Carmichael's, Dave notified us our 24 ounce Porterhouse steak (with sides) was ready, and the bartender added a Guinness and a glass of water to the spread. Then (I kid you not), Ozzie Guillen walked in. All in all, quite a successful little jaunt. And my runs this week have been more or less strong so I feel like if I can keep this up I should be in pretty solid shape for the race in October.

Remember, you can't spell half marathon without the words "ham hat."

jbg